


Safe As Houses

by MothTale



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Hurt Laura Barton, Kink Meme, Original Character(s), Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Sexual Violence, Threats of Violence, rapist pov, trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 08:17:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16155173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MothTale/pseuds/MothTale
Summary: For this prompt on mcu_trash:Fury wasn't quite as thorough in hiding the Barton family farm as Clint thinks, and immediately following the data dump a sleeping Laura is woken up by a Hydra strike team intending to torture and murder her and her kids while Clint is gone. Cue a scared out of her mind civilian Laura swearing she'll do anything they want as long as they don't hurt her sleeping children- and they decide to take her up on that offer.This is without doubt one of the worst things I have ever written. You have been warned.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the prompt for this and something just came over me, and all of this happened...  
> I am so, so sorry.

Mike saw the word ‘Hawkeye’ and thought: This is it. I’m moving up in the world.  


Then he read further and his lips curled in disgust.  


Great. More dirty work. He thought he was done with that shit after last time.  


He scanned further through the file. Looked at the pictures.  


Nice house. Must be quiet. Peaceful.  


Barton really should have been more careful. It was a shame. If Mike had a wife and kids, and a nice big house in the country he’d have made sure they stayed hidden no matter what. He’d make sure no one knew, and he certainly wouldn’t just trust Fury to do it for him.  


He looked to see who he was working with. Tom Perez. He was alright. Mike had worked with him a few times on similar missions. The guy had been a bit green at first, but Mike hadn’t had any real issues with him. Their team leader was one Ian McAvoy. Mike had heard about him. All good things – well, that depended on your interpretation of good. Brutal. Efficient, but he knew how to have fun too. Looked out for his team.  


Maybe this mission wouldn’t suck so much.

\--

Not one trap. Not so much as a tripwire. Just a half-rotten fence and yards of clear green grass.  
The lock on the backdoor was a basic, store-bought one. Mike could’ve kicked through it in his socks.  


No security system, no alarms.  


It was the easiest break-in of Mike’s career.

\--

There were plates drying by the sink. A checker print table-cloth. Spice racks.  


The picture of domesticity.  


It must feel good, having a place like this to come back to.  


Barton was going to be crushed when it was gone.

\--

McAvoy signalled for them to head upstairs.  


The stairs creaked.  


They’d talked through their plan on the way over.  


The woman first. Mike and McAvoy would spend some time with her, enough so that when Barton found her he would know that she’d suffered. Perez would keep an eye on the kids’ bedrooms. When they were done with Mrs Barton they’d move on. They didn’t need to do a lot to the kids, a bullet in each and then figure out where to place them for maximum impact. Perez had looked a little pale when McAvoy had talked about how he handled kids.  


‘They always look so surprised, like they don’t expect it. Like they’re waiting for Captain America himself to bust down the walls to save them. Right up until you pull the trigger and blow their little brains out.’  


Once they were done, then they'd stage the scene. There was an art to it. Like setting up a painting. You had to draw the eye, build the unease, so that when the discovery came it was earth-shattering. Mike already had a few ideas. They wouldn't put them all in one place - give Barton that shred of hope that one of his kids had managed to escape. One was better than none, after all. Maybe leave a trail of blood drops for him to follow. Or pieces. Fingers and toes.  


The kids had their names hung on their doors. Smooth-edged block capitals for Cooper. Looping, painterly strokes for Lila. McAvoy gestured for Perez to station himself at the end of the corridor, near the stairs. If one of the kids tried to run they'd be trapped upstairs.  


Mike followed his leader down the corridor towards the master bedroom.  


Unlike the kids rooms the door was open and Mike could make out a shape in the double bed.  


The only photos they had were taken at a distance.  


All Mike knew about her was that she was brunette, had two kids and she was married to Clint Barton, AKA Hawkeye.  


His mouth became dry as they crept closer.  


She stayed on her half of the bed, duvet all bundled up around her - she probably hogged the covers when they slept together.  


McAvoy held up a hand, leaving Mike in the doorway as he stalked across the floor towards the sleeping woman.  


Mike watched as he slipped his handgun back into its holster and took out his combat knife instead. The man moved like a shadow. Like death itself. Mike watched in awe.  


The woman didn't wake up until he was inches from her.  


McAvoy clamped a gloved hand over her mouth.  


'Hello, Laura,' he said, and he ran the flat side of the knife over her cheek so that even in the darkness of the bedroom she could feel it.  


Mike heard the muffled groan of fear, heard her start to hyperventilate. He could only imagine how her warm breath must feel on McAvoy's palm.  


'Do you know who we are, Laura?'  


McAvoy's voice was soft and gentle, almost like a doctor comforting a confused patient coming around from sedation.  


Mike saw the movement as she shook her head. He could still hear a whimpering, somewhere on the edge of panic.  


'Oh. You know why we're here though, don't you?'  


Mike didn't see her head move, but McAvoy must have felt it.  


'Clever girl. Now, why don't you turn the bedside light on so we can talk properly? Before I move my hand away though, I have to tell you I've got a two men waiting and ready to kill your children. All they need is the word. So, don't give me any trouble ok?'  


He moved back and Mike heard a sob, hauled back and choked down, before a litany of whispers.  


'Don't hurt my babies. Please, please don't hurt my babies.'  


'The light, Laura.'  


She was still whispering as she reached across the bed and flicked the switch.  


She wasn't anything special, as far as Mike could see. Wearing a shapeless flannel nightdress, she looked older than he was expecting. He found himself wishing Barton had a hot teen daughter, rather than the two pint-sized brats, but you couldn't get everything you wanted.  


'Don't hurt them. Please. I-I d-don't...I don't care what you do to me. Just don't hurt them. I'm begging you.'  


McAvoy sat down on the end of the bed. He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. He was playing with the knife, making sure Laura could see it. Her eyes were locked on it, so much so Mike didn't think she'd even noticed he was there yet. Probably the only things in her head right now were her, the man with the knife, and her kids.  


'You see, problem is, I've got a job to do,' McAvoy said, tapping the knife against his leg. 'It's not a nice job, but hey, it's the one I've got. And my job is, basically, to gut you and your little munchkins and leave you for your hubby to find.'  


She looked like she was going to be sick. Pasty white and eyes like saucers.  


'I'm sorry. Unfortunately, your husband and his boss fucked up. I bet he told you you'd be safe here, huh?'  


Laura's lips wobbled. 'Please. Don't.'  


'I'm afraid I can't do it quick either. For you or your kids. I don't enjoy doing this, believe me, but really this is your husband's fault. You'd think a guy would be a little more careful when it came to the safety of his wife and kids, but, well...' He shrugged.  


Her face was shiny with tears.  


'Don't hurt my babies. I'll do whatever you want. I promise. Just don't hurt my children. I...I...' Her mouth opened and closed as she trailed off - it made her look like a goldfish.  


'Oh, Laura,' McAvoy said, stretching across and rubbing her damp cheek with the knife still in his hand. She closed her eyes and trembled. 'You're sweet. I feel bad about this, I really do...But if I don't do this I'll get into all sorts of trouble with the higher-ups...'  


She looked like she was holding on by a thread, the only thing keeping her from a sobbing fit the thought of her children lives hanging in the balance.  


'I'll do anything. Please, please just let them live.'  


McAvoy looked at her. The silence only lasted a few seconds but Mike was sure it must have felt much, much longer for Laura.  


'Ok. I'll make you an offer. You show me and my boys a good time, and we'll leave the kiddies be. You make me happy, and maybe I'll consider leaving you in one piece too. Do you understand me?'  


'Yes. Yes, I understand,' she babbled, trembling more now than she at the start. She almost sagged under the relief.  


McAvoy flicked back the duvet covers and moved in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The actual rape is contained in here. Feel free to skip it if you want.

First he made her strip off her nightgown. He told her to make it sexy, but her hands were trembling too much. He'd let her off for that one. It'd been too much to hope for to find her in one of her husband's shirts. Ian had nurtured that particular fantasy for some time - of defiling a woman while her husband's scent was still on her, as if he was right there in the room while he was cuckolded.  


Hawkeye's wife in Hawkeye's bed. It was like fucking Christmas had come early.  


She shrugged off the nightgown.  


Decent tits considering she'd had two kids already. His eyes flicked down to her panties.  


They were plain, off-white with a trim of frayed lace. She didn't wait for him to tell her to take them off - good girl - sliding them down her legs. Ian took hold of them when they passed her ankles and held them to his face. The scent was filtered through the thick layers of the mask he was wearing but he still got a decent lungful. Better, though, was the way it made her shudder.  


He looked down at her. He ran his knuckles over her stomach, then turned his hand over, running his fingers over her pubic mound. He twisted them up in her pubic hair and pulled lightly. She didn't make a sound, looking at him and waiting for what he was going to do next.  


He made sure he had a decent handful of hair before he lifted, pulling her hips off the bed by the short strands at her crotch.  


She grit her teeth, closed her eyes, but was silent except for a single hiss of pain.  


Ian let go.  


He jammed his fingers into her cunt.  


She'd had two kids. This should be nothing to her. And yet she twisted on the sheets, turning up head into the pillow.  


Ian smirked, working the fingers of his gloved hand deeper. He wondered what the fabric felt like, scratching up inside the most intimate part of her. Not nice, judging from her face.  


He fingered her until he got bored and then he undid his fly. He got up onto his knees, looking down at her lying bare in her bed - the bed she shared with Hawkeye - and he was ready.  


'Spread your legs more for me baby,' he whispered, squeezing one of her breasts.  


She bit the edge of the pillow when he entered her.  


'How's that? Am I bigger than your husband? Does my cock feel good?'  


It was all rhetorical. He didn't need an answer, not like some guys - he was comfortable enough with his own sexual prowess thank you very much. But to his surprise, and delight, she answered him. It was in a sobbing and brittle voice, but it was an answer.  


'Yeah. Yeah, feels good. You're so...'  


Fat tears dribbled out of her eyes and she choked back a sob.  


Ian touched her face.  


'Good girl. You're doing so good. You're one third of the way there. I've decided to let Lila live, alright? You just keep on being good like that and I'm sure Cooper'll be just fine too.'  


Her chest heaved. He could feel her insides clenching around him. Sweet girl, she was really trying her best. Hawkeye was a lucky son of a bitch.  


Ian gestured to Belinski at the door, motioning for him to come over.  


'Leave the rifle,' he said, rolling his eyes as the man clumsily hurried to comply. 'You want in on this?'  


'Yeah, boss.'  


'Right, then you're up next.'  


As he got closer to completion his movements became harsher. He grabbed hold of her left tit and squeezed the nipple until she was gritting her teeth with the edge of the pillow clamped between them and the noise she made pushed him over the edge.  


'Hope you don't mind sloppy seconds,' he said, clapping Belinski on the back. 'When you're done go and ask Perez if he wants a piece of this. If he does, then take over from him.'  


He climbed off the bed, tucked himself away and did up the button on his pants. He headed for a chair in the corner of the room to observe the show. Before he did, however, he leaned in towards Laura.  


'Now, you better be nice to my boy here. If you're not then I'll drag little Cooper in here, so he can see just what sort of slut his mommy is before I slit his throat. You got it?'  


Laura just nodded desperately.  


Ian gave a single nod of approval and went to sit down.  


Belinski didn't have much in the way of technique, rutting away like he was dealing with a sex doll, his eyes focused somewhere on the headboard. Ian lost interest and began to look around the room. Judging from the patterns on the curtains and the little china knick-knacks on the dresser Laura had been the key player when it came to the interior decorations. She was probably responsible for the warm, homely feel all throughout the place. He wondered if that would all change now.  


Belinski came with a noise like a kicked dog. He'd pulled out, so he shot all over her belly and the sheets. Ian made an approving noise. He reached into his pants pocket for a cigarette, while Belinski put his dick away and climbed off the bed.  


'So, what'd you think?' he asked, lighting up the cigarette.  


Belinski shrugged. 'I've had better,' he sneered.  


'Is that so. Well, Laura, looks like you'll have to hope that our colleague is a little easier to impress if you want to save Cooper.'  


When Belinski left to go get Perez Ian went over to the bed again.  


She was staring up at the ceiling like she was broken already, and Ian was a little disappointed, but then she turned her head and looked him in the eyes.  


That was much better. He pulled down the bottom of his mask and took drag from his cigarette.  


He rarely smoked these days. He didn't like the way it made his lungs feel, but there were certain situations where it just felt right.  


Her eyes followed the red dot at the end of the cigarette as it moved. Her nose wrinkled when he blew the smoke towards her face. She flinched when he tapped ash onto her chest.  


Perez hesitated by the doorway.  


'Come on in,' Ian said, smirking. 'I don't think I need to explain to you what this is.'  


Perez bobbed his head. He started undoing his belt like a kid in gym class, like he was being timed.  


Ian had had some reservations about Perez. He'd heard he could be soft, a little squeamish sometimes. When it came to something like this though, the guy had no problems.  


He licked and he bit. He took hold of her hips and he squeezed, seemed determined to leave marks wherever he touched. He watched her face, changing his position, chasing after winces and swallowed whines. A sadist.  


He slapped her, unprovoked. The sound was loud in the bedroom. Laura whimpered in shock, clamping her teeth shut and looking back towards the ceiling.  


Perez hit her again.  


'Look at me!' he snarled.  


And there were some issues there to be sure. Maybe, when they were done Ian would buy him a drink and ask him about it.  


Ian pushed up from his seat. The cigarette was almost ended.  


Perez took it when he passed it to him. A sly smile passed between them - or passed from Ian to Perez anyway, the other still had his mask on.  


He stubbed it out on her crotch, dangerously close to his own dick, deep in the tangle of dark, curled hair. She scrabbled for the duvet, pulling it up towards her face and jamming it into her mouth to dampen back the scream.  


Perez tipped his head back with a contented sigh, grunting as he came.  


'Thanks for the cigarette,' he said.  


Laura moaned into the duvet. She seemed to want to curl up onto her side, but the pain was stopping her.  


Ian touched her forehead, damp with sweat, and smiled at her.  


'Well done, Laura. I'm impressed. I gave you my word, we won't touch your children. But how'll they manage all alone out here, if I cut you open right now? They'll have to sit with their mommy's dead body until someone comes, and that'll screw their little minds up for sure. I mean, can you imagine that?'  


He took the knife out again, running the flat of the blade over her belly, twisting it round and pressing the tip lightly against her sternum.  


'Poor Cooper and Lila, they won't stand a chance. And when they work it out, that their daddy got their mommy killed...well, who knows what'll happen?'  


He'd made her cry again. She was gonna be dehydrated beyond belief by the time they were done.  


'I'm sure you want to spare them all that. So are you gonna be able to take a little more pain? Just a little more, then I'll be happy and I'll leave you and your family in peace. So how about it?'  


She moved her head in what could have been a nod.  


'I'm gonna need words here Laura. A nice big 'yes', alright?'  


'Y-yes.' More tears. By now the wet patch by her head almost rivalled the one between her legs.  


'Alright, I'm glad we're clear.' He looked back towards Perez. 'You gonna be up for another round?'  


Perez snorted and shook his head. 'Not any time soon.'  


'Oh well, just me then. So you've got one chance left, alright baby?'  


He pulled the knife towards her groin, and admired the burn on her labia. On a whim he pressed his thumb down onto it, watching as she squirmed. He felt the heat even through his glove.  


He moved his hand over to her thigh and rubbed.  


'Ever been fucked in the ass?'  


Laura went kind of stiff, looking at him through frantic, teary eyes. She shook her head.  


Ian raised an eyebrow.  


'Well, guess I just lost a bet then. I had Hawkeye figured as an ass man. Guess I was wrong. How about we give it a try?'  


He grinned down at her and patted her side.  


'On your stomach, baby.'  


When she moved she had to unstick herself from the pool of drying cum under her hips. There were streaks of blood, but certainly not the worst Ian had seen. She moved with a tremor to her limbs, flopping down with her face in the pillows like she wanted to suffocate herself or something.  


He smirked. She had a nice ass for a housewife. He supposed running round a big, old farmhouse after two young kids all on her own kept her in shape.  


He smacked her ass a few times before he spread her cheeks. He was already hard again - the thought of taking yet another thing from Hawkeye had done wonders.  


He ran his fingers through the cum oozing out of her cunt and smeared it around her asshole. He could see the tension in her shoulders where she was gripping the sheets.  


'Trust me, you're gonna want to relax baby.'  


He pushed two fingers inside her, loving the muffled yelp. He scraped up some more spunk and put it inside her, earning a full-body shiver.  


'Relax,' he told her, while he got his dick out.  


The pressure stopped just on the right side of pain, for him anyway. Laura made an animal sound - no mere sobs or moans - into the pillows under her face.  


He kept telling her to relax and, sweet thing, she was trying. He could feel her trying. He leaned over and licked her ear.  


'Just a little bit more, Laura. A little bit more and we're all done,' he murmured.  


It was one of his more satisfying orgasms. It made the top ten, anyway. He pulled back and wiped his dick on the bedsheets.  


Her knuckles were bone-white, tangled in the edges of the duvet and the sheets. She was making a constant sound now, a low keening like the moan of the wind down a chimney on a stormy night.  


The kindest thing to do really was to put a bullet in her brain. Then the kids. Quiet and peacefully. But he'd given her his word and she'd been good.  


He patted her back.  


'We're done now. I'm taking my men and I'm leaving now. You can do what you want - lie here and cry, take a shower, call your husband and tell him what happened but just know that we know where you live. And the next time I come back, I'm not gonna let you off so lightly Laura.'  


He turned away. Perez was looking at him, smirking as he was waiting for Ian to bring his knife back out and stick it in her back. He looked puzzled when Ian went through the door and beckoned him to follow. He didn't question him though.  


They collected Belinski from his post. Both children's rooms were still shut and Ian didn't hear any sound that they had awakened. Feeling satisfied, he left the house, careful to leave the lock as it had been, before he and his boys marched across the fields and into the trees.


	3. Chapter 3

She didn't move until she heard their boots on the stairs, and then it was only to roll so her face was no longer crushed into the pillow. She gulped down air and it took everything she had not to scream and howl. Within a few minutes that urge passed.  


She pushed herself up carefully and rolled onto her back. Pain crawled up her tailbone. She looked up at the ceiling. Her throat felt dry and her head pounded. She wondered what time it was. She had to get things tidied up before Lila or Cooper woke up.  


She heard a sound.  


For a moment she thought it was the men coming back; that the one with the gentle voice and the mocking smile had just been toying with her and now he was coming back to kill her for real.  


Then she realised the steps were too light, and she sat up in horror, snatching at the duvet and hauling it over her.  


'Mommy?'  


It was Lila, rubbing her eyes and with her stuffed rabbit Mr Raisins held to her chest.  


'Is Daddy back? I heard talking...'  


She lowered her chin, squashing it against Mr Raisin's lilac coloured fur. Laura tried to smile at her.  


'No, sweetie, Daddy's not home yet. You must have been having a dream. Go on back to bed.'  


Laura was surprised to hear her voice sounded just the same as always, minus a little scratchiness.  


Lila nodded, but didn't leave. Instead she took a step forward, and Laura realised what her youngest was preparing to jump up into the bed. The still-stained bed where Laura had just been raped.  


'No, Lila!'  


Lila stopped, looking worried like she thought she was in trouble. Laura tried to get a hold of herself before she spoke again.  


'Don't you wanna be able to tell Daddy that you were a big girl and you slept in your own bed the whole time he was away?'  


The little girl looked at the floor. Laura hoped she wasn't about to cry.  


'Yeah...' she said at last, like she was weighing it up. The instant gratification of snuggling up with Mommy, versus the delayed, but arguably stronger, gratification of having Daddy praise her for being brave.  


'You've got Mr Raisins to protect you. And Mommy checked for monsters before you went to sleep.'  


Lila nodded, and then she padded away.  


Laura listened for the sound of a door opening and shutting, then collapsed back onto the bed when she heard it.  


The physical pain felt distant, as pangs went through her at the thought of her little girl, with her stuffed rabbit, up against three armed men ten times worse than any of the monsters she imagined. She covered her mouth as she cried, big, gasping sobs which made her head hurt.  


When she was done she sat up again and looked at the clock. It was close to four AM. She had time to get everything clean before the kids woke up properly. Cooper was starting to sleep in a bit these days, no longer up with the larks but at the more reasonable hour of seven o'clock. Since Lila had woken up once already, there was no telling whether she'd wake up as usual or later.  


She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and almost threw up.  


The squelch was audible. Pain tingling up, down and deep inside.  


She had to shower. She needed to shower.  


Her legs shuddered as she tried to stand and her head throbbed like she was going to faint.  


She made it into the bathroom though.  


The rattling pipes might wake up Cooper and Lila, but she couldn't do anything while she was still like this. Clint had promised to do something about the pipes the last time he'd been home and had spent two days climbing about behind the walls and generally making more of a mess than there'd been when he started. Laura had finally asked him to stop, afraid he'd be called away and she'd be left with a house which looked like a building site. Again.  


She turned the water up as hot as she could get it before she remembered the burn. She let the shower run and went to the sink instead, running cold water which she cupped and threw onto her crotch. It woke the pain back up. She opened up the medicine cabinet and looked for water-proof band-aids. She knew she really should keep dabbing the burn with cold water for another twenty minutes or so, but she didn't think she could stand having that stuff in her - on her - for much longer.  


She flattened the plaster down, gritting her teeth at the pain, and then stepped into the shower.  


The relief was instant. She rinsed her face, then began to scrub at the cum stains on her stomach. As she did, she felt more cum dribbling out from inside her. She tried to focus on the water swirling around the drain instead, imagining everything from the last few hours just being washed off and swept away.  


She could have spent the day in the shower, and she still probably wouldn't have felt clean. Eventually the need to deal with the bedclothes couldn't be ignored.  


She towelled herself off quickly, finding fresh clothes and pulling them on. She was still bleeding a little, so she unwrapped a pantyliner and stuck it down. She'd chosen a loose long-sleeved shirt which would cover all the bruises.  


Next she gathered up the dirty sheets and stripped the duvet and pillowcases. The nightgown and the panties she'd put in the incinerator. There was no way she was ever wearing them again.  


Lila's door was shut when she passed it, Cooper's too. She was seized by a sudden fear. Lila was unhurt, but Cooper...  


She had to see for herself.  


She put the bundle of sheets down on the floorboards and eased open her son's bedroom door. There was dirty laundry on the floor; his t-shirt and socks from yesterday, even though she'd told him to put them in the hamper. There was a shape in the bed. Laura didn't feel herself relax until she saw the shape move with the motion of child-sized lungs under a rocket-ship patterned duvet. She smiled and closed the door.  


Outside she had to hold herself back from sinking to the floor and crying. If it hadn't been for the evidence, on her bed and on her body, she might have thought it was all a nightmare.  


Scooping up the sheets she headed for the utility room.  


\--  


Clint barely made it to the porch before he was mobbed.  


Laura watched him, with a child weighting down each arm, and a voice in her head said: You told us we'd be safe here. Liar.  


He looked across at her and smiled before his attention was called back by Lila, jumping up and down, and telling him that she was a brave girl. That she'd slept every night in her own, not in Mommy and Daddy's bed. Cooper was showing off his wobbly molar, opening his mouth wide and almost tripping over his own feet.  


'Hey guys, maybe let Daddy get in the house before you talk his ear off?' Laura said.  


Clint looked at her gratefully as the kids peeled away, darting into the house.  


'Hey,' he said. He looked tired, but Laura couldn't spot any obvious injuries this time. That didn't mean a whole lot though. He'd hidden an entire gunshot wound from her once, in the early days of their marriage. He knew better than that now though.  


He leaned in to kiss her and for a moment she froze up before she forced herself to relax and kiss back. She reached up and touched his face, relieved when she didn't feel the slightest hint of revulsion at that at least.  


Evidently they took too long, because the kids were clamouring at the threshold. Clint's smile when he looked at them made something in Laura clench up and go cold. She wanted to scream at him, claw at him and tell him how close he'd been to coming home to a parent's worst nightmare. Instead she held a smile in place, and followed him into the house.  


\--  


'I fell off a building. Just a small one. Five storeys. And Tony caught me so it's all ok. Nothing broken, just a few cuts and bruises.'  


Clint was sprawled out on their bed, still mostly clothed.  


She'd burned the sheets too, in the end. She probably could have passed the bloodstains off as period blood, but, given the chance, she'd rather be rid of the whole thing.  


The first night after it happened she'd slept on the couch downstairs, waking up a few hours before dawn so the kids wouldn't notice.  


Over the past week she'd tried to spend more time in here, to gradually overcome the aversion but it hadn't been enough.  


Some of her bruises were still there, in yellowing shades, and the last bowel movement she had almost brought her to tears. The burn was still pink and raw. Still obviously a burn. She kept covering it with oils and stuff to avoid scarring. The last thing she wanted was for her eagle-eyed husband to go down on her, months later when her head was finally in the right place, and ask what the hell happened.  


Clint lifted his head. 'Are you mad?' He looked worried. 'I knew Tony was there. I didn't just jump without knowing someone was there to catch me.' He winced, the 'this time' unvoiced but still present between them.  


'I'm not mad,' Laura said. She was trying to figure out how to get changed into her pajamas without Clint seeing the bruises.  


'You sure?'  


'Yes, I'm sure.'  


Clint believed her, starting to strip off and get ready for bed.  


'Hamper,' she reminded, when he dropped his shirt on the chair. He smiled at her and made a show of picking it up, balling it up and tossing it into the laundry hamper out in the hall.  


He went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and Laura made one of the quickest changes of her life. She was grateful it was fall, and the fact that she was wearing pants to bed wouldn't be remarked on.  


She heard the sink running.  


'I want a dog,' she said, as she climbed under the covers. She wanted a lot of things. A new house in a new secret location. A gun under her pillow. Electric fences all around the property. A husband who was always home so he could protect them from the bad people he pissed off while doing his job. She wasn't sure how many she'd get. Not without telling him what had happened. And right now, that meant an argument. Because she blamed him.  


He probably wouldn't fight back. Would sit and just soak it up, and that would just make her try harder. She'd probably say she wished she'd never married him. That she should take the kids and leave. That he didn't care about them anyway. Horrible, bitter, nasty things, until he couldn't take anymore and he left to go shoot things in the woods.  


It wouldn't matter that she didn't mean it. Because the things would all be half-truths anyway. Once she said them, they'd be real. And it would kill him. She knew Clint would never kill himself, not by the traditional means, but he'd manage it somehow. Would jump off a building, only eighty-five per-cent sure he had a grappling arrow with him. Would ignore a call to fall back. Would maybe try to track down the Hydra agents responsible for raping his wife and threatening his kids, and he'd do it without telling any of his team. Even Natasha. Because he was ashamed. And maybe she kind of wanted that last one. It would help her to know she'd never wake up in the middle of the night and see those eyes staring down at her.  


But she couldn't do that to him.  


So she asked for a dog.  


'I heard Lila was angling for a puppy. She finally wore you down then?' was Clint's reply from the bathroom.  


'Not a puppy. A dog. Maybe two. I was thinking German Shepherds...'  


She had also been thinking Rottweilers, or Dobermans. The classic guard dogs. But a German Shepherd would do just as well. They could be vicious, but at the same time matched the look of a family pet.  


'Uh, sure. I can try and find somewhere like a rescue or something.'  


She hummed in agreement. A rescue dog. They'd be loyal and protective over their new home. They wouldn't take it for granted.  


She heard the floorboards creak and the bed dip as Clint climbed into it.  


Laura focused on breathing. Counting the breaths. Watching the walls. Studying the patterns. Anything to anchor herself in the here and now.  


They'd switched off the overhead light, leaving just the glow of the bedside lights.  


She managed not to flinch when Clint touched her side. He ran his fingers up towards her neck, which was the closest patch of skin to him at that moment. He touched her lightly, and normally that would have been enough for Laura to respond. To roll over, maybe take his fingers in her mouth. To straddle him and start undressing.  


She almost baulked at what she had to do. It was so cliche.  


'Not tonight,' she said. 'I'm not feeling well.'  


She heard the sheets rustle as he sat up.  


In all their years of marriage they had always been pretty much in sync when it came to their libidos. Excluding the few times Clint had come home so exhausted he slept for days, their first night together was for one thing. They'd wake up sticky and sore and have to open the windows to try and clear the smell of sex from the room before the kids came running in at dawn. They'd have to shower separately and come out of the bathroom fully clothed so they didn't jump each other and have to go through the whole thing again.  


'Ok,' Clint said.  


She didn't hear disappointment or annoyance, and she wanted to hug him and cry and thank him for that. She wanted to, but she couldn't.  


'I love you,' she said. Not sure where it came from exactly.  


'I love you, too.'  


She heard him lie back down, and a small sigh of what might be discomfort. He turned out the light on his side.  


She rolled over to face him. She pushed her fingers under his t-shirt, feeling the muscles of his abdomen, the light trail of hair beneath his navel. It all felt so familiar.  


'I thought you said--'  


'Doesn't mean you have to suffer too. Now just shut up and stay still.'  


Her hands were dry, so she double-rolled back onto her side of the bed and opened up the bottom drawer on the bedside cabinet.  


She was almost out of lube, but there was enough for her to coat her hands.  


She would have given him a blowjob, but she didn't trust her mouth around him right now. They hadn't done that to her, but the consequences of having a panic attack or a flashback with her mouth on her husband's dick didn't bear thinking about.  


He groaned softly when she touched him. It didn't take very long at all. They both knew each other's bodies in depth, knew what the other liked and needed. Laura could sketch out each of Clint's scars from memory, even if he wouldn't tell her the story behind each of them.  


When they were done she wiped her hands with a tissue while Clint cleaned himself up.  


'You're sure you're ok?' he said, and she could feel his eyes on her.  


'I'm fine,' she lied.


End file.
